


To Each His Own

by Grundy



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 05:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11433954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grundy/pseuds/Grundy
Summary: Series of drabbles written for the prompt "Curufin courts his future wife."





	To Each His Own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amyfortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/gifts).



Maitimo sighed as he watched the courtyard gate shut firmly behind Tyelpesilmë.

It was the third time this week the talented young jewelsmith had argued with Curufinwë.

Time for a word with his little brother…

“Curvo, perhaps you should work with someone else if you cannot keep from fighting with her.”

His brother blinked at him from his workbench in apparent surprise.

“We were not fighting,” he said blankly.

“So that was not an argument I just overheard?” Maitimo asked skeptically.

“Of course not,” Curvo snorted disdainfully. “Did you never listen to Kano while _he_ was courting?”

“ _Courting_?” Maitimo spluttered.

 

* * *

 

 

Makalaurë howled with laughter when Maitimo brought the matter up with him later.

“Lindë and I never fought,” he managed between guffaws. “I admit we had some fierce debates about chromatic progression –  we still do on occasion – but we never argued as you’re saying Curvo and _his_ beloved do.”

Calming down somewhat, he grinned.

“Then again, I also don’t have Curvo’s… interesting… attitude.”

 “Thank the Valar for small mercies,” Maitimo replied. “One of him is quite enough. But I still don’t see the attraction of courtship by debate.”

“No,” Makalaurë agreed drily. “You and Finno prefer wrestling, riding, and swordplay.”

 

* * *

 

 “Some men, little brother, stick to what they are _good_ at when trying to impress a girl,” Tyelkormo suggested, trying not to laugh out loud.

Curvo glared at him from the table where he was making a heartfelt but disastrous attempt at flower arrangement.

“I am _good,_ ” he said waspishly, “at crafting wearable ornaments. But as Silmë is also a talented smith, I can hardly gift her jewelry.”

“Why not? I thought the two of you enjoyed discussing designs.”

“She can make things just as fine on her own. Besides, half the kingdom wears my creations. _She_ deserves something special.”

 

* * *

 

 

Carnistir has never been his favorite brother, but Curufinwë could kiss him for this suggestion.

He wanted to show Tyelpesilme how important she was to him. Moryo had pointed out ‘different’ need not mean ‘something you have never tried before’.

Rather than make something Silmë might find _beautiful_ – a gift any man might give any girl – he’d make something _useful._ Something that showed he knew the person she was.

She will appreciate the worktable he is building, similar to the one he’d constructed for his brother, but designed with _her_ work needs in mind, far more than any silly flowers.

 

* * *

 

 

Ambarussa wore matching looks of unease.

“You’re not going to announce it right away, are you?” Pityo asked hopefully.

“Why would I not?” Curufinwë demanded in aggravation.

What possible reason could his baby brothers have for wanting him to delay telling his parents of his intention to marry?

“You are our next oldest brother,” Telvo explained, as though it should have been obvious. “We were counting on our other brothers marrying before you.”

“You’ll give Atto and Ammë _ideas_ ,” Pityo continued. “They will start expecting us to look around for girls to settle down with too!”

“The horror,” Curufinwë muttered.


End file.
